


oh but you sure know how to get right to me

by johniaurens



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi, Unrequited Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johniaurens/pseuds/johniaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex is absolutely stunning in his charcoal tuxedo. His hair's tucked into a bun, as neat as it gets, really, and the smile on his face hasn't fallen even once, not even when John's lips curled into an angry grimace at the sight of the ring on his finger. All he'd done was pat him on the shoulder, shoot another grin at him – the lopsided, trusting smile that makes him think of an overexcited puppy, the smile that he knows is reserved only for <i>him</i>, and somehow that makes all of it sting even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh but you sure know how to get right to me

**Author's Note:**

> you know that [post](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CfTNTf2UMAAxXhf.jpg:large) about the girl whose aunt's wedding got suddenly 100x more awkward when the best man announced that he was in love with the groom in the middle of the toast? yeah. i wrote a fic about it.
> 
> i'm bad at alcohol quantities. seriously, i dont know if 5 vodka shots is a lot. 
> 
> title is from "@chl03k" by modern baseball.

John is _drunk_ , and not in a pretty way, either – he's past the giggly tipsiness and all that's left is the deep, dark anger, heavy in the bottom of his stomach, getting to know those five vodka shots he'd taken quite intimately. 

Alex is absolutely stunning in his charcoal tuxedo. His hair's tucked into a bun, as neat as it gets, really, and the smile on his face hasn't fallen even once, not even when John's lips curled into an angry grimace at the sight of the ring on his finger. All he'd done was pat him on the shoulder, shoot another grin at him – the lopsided, trusting smile that makes him think of an overexcited puppy, the smile that he knows is reserved only for _him_ , and somehow that makes all of it sting even worse.

Eliza looks good, he guesses. He can tell she's beautiful, round face, big eyes. Kinder, calmer energy where Alex vibrates more insistently with nervous anxiety. She's bubbly, sweet, and exactly what Alex deserves. Actually, John's pretty sure she's more than what he deserves, and the bitterness of that shocks him, slightly, makes him grab another cocktail from a waiter that's passing by just then.

If either of them have noticed his moodiness they haven't said anything, and John should be grateful, he guesses, but Alex is being too nice to him, Eliza is just _too nice_ in general, and he kind of wants _someone_ to _fight_ him, wants to _yell_ at someone. He wants to _smash_ something. 

Lafayette puts a hand on his arm, brows furrowing in concern.  
“Are you okay?” he asks, and John almost wants to punch him in the face, as well, but he doesn't, of course he doesn't, and the night's just falling and holy shit, there's fairy lights draped over the area they're sitting in, and John makes a disgusted noise, angles himself a little so he doesn't have to look at Lafayette. Or the fairy lights.  
“Fine”, he snaps, and he knows that Lafayette doesn't _deserve_ it, but god, he's feeling so fucking _selfish_ and Lafayette never fights back. 

(John's always been good at lying through his teeth. “Yes, I'm fine”, “It doesn't have to mean anything”, “Oh yeah, I fuck my friends all the time”, “Of course it's okay if we stay just friends”, “I'd love to be your best man”, “I'm so happy for you”.)

“John?”, asks Hercules, looking at him for the first time since they sat down, and he looks concerned, and John just mumbles out a “I'm good, don't worry about me”, rises from his seat.

Alex notices immediately, of course he fucking does – there's this casual sort of connection between them where John is always scanning the crowd for him and he's always noticing this kind of trivial bullshit and ignoring the bigger stuff, and John is so fucking _angry_ , but Alex is smiling so wide, all teeth and unadulterated delight, and he finds his own face softening, relaxing, lips curving into a smile. He despises himself for it.

“Hey, everyone”, shouts Alex, into the microphone that yet another pretty girl in heels and an elegant dress gives him, and John catches the look she gives to Alex, realizes with a pang that she's the bridesmaid, and suddenly feels very exhausted. Man, both the bridesmaid and the best man are fucking in love with the groom. The biggest fucking cliché John has ever been forced to live through. 

The crowd is quiet now, and Alex smiles.  
“I think it's time we hear from the best man”.

John's stomach sinks. He had completely forgot about this part, which is silly, he guesses, but he'd rather not do this, he'd really not, but somehow his legs are moving now, and he's walking towards the stage, mechanical, one foot at a time.  
Alex smiles at him as he passes him, and he smiles back, thin-lipped and obviously fake, takes the microphone into his shaky hand. 

“Hey”, says John, into the microphone, immediately feels silly, and he can see Lafayette and Hercules laughing, decides to ignore them, tries his best to look happy, tries to look normal, tries to look like his _best friend just got married_ instead of whatever this bullshit is, and he's not sure how it goes, but he introduces himself (“John Laurens – I've known Alex for almost four years now”) and tries to sober up a little. 

It's not going well – per se, but it's not going _awful_ , and he thinks he's got it.

And then they make eye contact. Alex's eyes are soft, hand in Eliza's, and his sweet, open face is just too much, and all John can see is _red_.

“Alex”, John says, and it comes out as a sigh, almost, soft and too much, and he looks right at him with those _eyes_ , fuck fuck fuck and it's too much, can't stop himself, says, “god I love you so much”, and he knows the crowd's taking it the platonic way from all the aw's, but John's breath hitches in his throat and he lets out a strangled laugh, and it comes out as a sob, and Alex's eyes are so shiny, and he can't stop, words are just pouring out of his mouth, god, he's fucked.

“You're married. God I'm so happy but I wish it was to _me_ ”, and a gasp goes through the crowd, and he can see Lafayette scrambling up from his chair from the corner of his eye, “She's so beautiful. I'm happy for you. But holy _shit_ , Alex, for a while I really thought it'd be _me_ ”, and he's shaking now, definitely, but Alex is the whole world now, the only thing that exists, and he needs to get this out now or he never will, God. 

“You said you loved me”, and his voice breaks. The words sound like an accusation – they're not, not really, but his heart is lodged in his throat, soaked in alcohol, heavy with grief, and Alex still hasn't said anything. His mouth is open. John remembers exactly what it feels like to trace the outline of it with his thumb. 

“John”, says Lafayette, on the stage, now, and his voice is gentle, and John, once again, wants to smack him, but he doesn't, just pushes at him weakly, keeps going.

“I said I could take it and I couldn't. God. I wish you could have loved me like I love you. I really do. God, what were you _thinking_? 'Oh, I know, let's make John the best man, that's a good idea, what could go wrong?' You're full of shit, Alex. It hasn't even been a _month_ since the last time we fucked.” and this time he means it to be bitter, he _is_ bitter, hell, what _else_ could he be? “It kinda hurts”. The laugh that follows is self-deprecating, ugly.

“Anyways”, John says after a second of heavy silence, “I hope you're happy together. Or whatever”.

It's quiet. The only thing John can hear is his own heavy breathing, blood rushing everywhere in his body at once. Alex has stopped breathing. Lafayette is frozen in place somewhere on his right. 

Alex breaks the eye contact. Looks away. John feels ashamed, suddenly. Very small. Like all fight has left him. He aches to lie down on the ground and descend all the way to hell. 

“Thanks”, he says, shaky, and drops the microphone.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on my [tumblr](http://lcfayctte.tumblr.com/)


End file.
